


Handpicked

by Sodalitefully



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Part 2 is Smut, Vaginal Sex, part 1 is preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodalitefully/pseuds/Sodalitefully
Summary: The instruments of the group might have fallen together easily, but finding a lead singer that clicked was proving to be a trickier thing.  They’d brought in a couple guys that hadn’t worked out before Mick made up his mind:“I want the skinny blond fucker in that band Rock Candy.”Movie/book fusion AU, Mick recruited Vince for the band.(“I wanted to remind them that I had named the band, that I had molded Nikki into a real songwriter, that I had purged the band’s weak links, and that I had handpicked Vince” Mick, The Dirt)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from tumblr (@sodalitefully) and rockfic (ferrous_wheel).

Mick had played with a half-dozen bands before Nikki and Tommy came along. He had two ex’s, three estranged children, and more child support due every month than he could handle, nevermind rent. All because he’d decided at the tender age of three – twenty-six whole years ago – that guitar would be his end-all, be-all for the rest of his life, even if it meant years of hopping from band to band, city to city, just trying to get by with enough money for food, booze, and painkillers. But the thing is, when you spend as much time as he did playing in shitty bands, you learn a thing or two, a thing or two about how to make a band, well, not-so shitty. 

So when Nikki gave him that talk – you know, the one you give new band members about the way things are going to go, so that they might not start trying to rework things down the line – saying how he left his last band, London, because there were too many people trying to tug the group in too many different directions, and how he wanted to realize his own vision (something no one’s ever seen before, something that will shock the masses and give the youth exactly what they want) through this yet-unnamed-and-incomplete embryo of a band, well. Mick could work with that. This might be a chance to play with a band that had what it takes to go the distance, maybe even a chance for Mick to realize his own dreams, to trade in the park benches for tour buses. And with stakes that high, Mick would do anything in his power to make sure the band couldn’t fail. 

So, Nikki was a visionary – a young one, but (with some guidance from a wiser, more experienced musician) he had potential. And Tommy was just a kid, but he could play. So that just left one question: Who was going to do the singing in this band? 

The instruments of the group might have fallen together easily, but finding a lead singer that clicked was proving to be a trickier thing. They’d brought in a couple guys that hadn’t worked out before Mick made up his mind: 

“I want the skinny blond fucker in that band Rock Candy.” 

Mick had been at the Starwood when he saw the guy. Shitty band, but the kid had moves, the kind of moves Nikki was looking for. And it wasn’t just Nikki who wanted a singer with moves: every girl in the audience wanted a piece of him too. He was wearing a white satin getup like some kind of disco god, but with chains at his waist and enough hairspray to drown a cat in his bleached-blond hair. He put all of his energy into the performance, strutting around the stage, shaking his mane of hair, and singing into his mic like he was making love to it. Forget the girls, Mick knew exactly whose lips he’d be thinking about tonight. 

~~~~~ 

Life was good for Vince Neil. He was in his element, riling up the crowd at the Starwood. He had his girlfriend, Lovey, waiting for him at the bar, a pack of adoring fans (aka hot chicks) right in front of the stage, and… one creepy-looking older dude watching from the shadows by the wall. 

Vince first noticed the guy sometime in the middle of his set. He was clearly a rocker, with dyed black hair and black clothes to match. He was obviously older than the rest of the audience and his face was frozen in a severe expression. Strange as he might be, there was no reason to pay this guy any mind, not when Vince was in the middle of a performance. But somehow Vince’s gaze just kept drifting back to the man in the back of the room. The guy never moved, or talked to anyone, or even looked at the girls that passed him by. He kept his eyes on the stage the whole time, and the longer Vince watched the man from the corner of his eye, the more certain he became that he wasn’t just looking at the stage: his eyes were locked unwaveringly on Vince himself. 

When the set ended, Vince made his was over to Lovey at the bar. But before he even said anything, the bartender pushed him a full glass. 

“From some rocker dude,” was the only explanation offered. It wasn’t a very helpful explanation, since they were at a concert venue, but Vince immediately twisted around in his seat to look for the man in black. He was nowhere in sight. 

“What’s he talking about?” Lovey asked him. 

“No idea,” Vince lied. 

~~~~~

Later, while Lovey was going down on him, the guy from the Starwood popped back into Vince’s mind. Vince did some of his best thinking during sex – other guys might just let their minds go blank but Vince came up with most of his better ideas while he was with a woman. Everything seemed clearer relative to the simple objective of getting off. 

This guy though, wasn’t really what, or who, Vince expected to be thinking about while getting a blowjob. Didn’t expect to be thinking about how intensely he’d been staring at Vince, how he didn’t ever smile but looking back on it Vince was sure he was into the show. And how tight his leather pants were, how good they looked on him, how Vince should ask Lovey to buy him a pair like that —— 

After he came, Vince’s only thought about his mysterious stranger was how it really didn’t matter, since he would probably never see him again anyway. 

~~~~~

Well, it turned out Tommy knew the guy that Mick had in mind. His name was Vince Neil (Mick hadn’t forgotten) and they went to high school together. Based on the way Tommy talked about him, Vince had been some kind of rock n roll heartthrob back in their school days (maybe two years ago, max, but Mick didn’t comment). That kind of talk got Nikki’s attention too, and soon enough the trio was crashing some rich teenager’s house party to poach Rock Candy’s lead singer. 

~~~~~

“I’m in a band now,” was the first thing Tommy said when he showed up out of the blue at one of Vince’s gigs, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of the crowd behind him. It was obvious who he was talking about though: two guys with dark sunglasses and long black hair. One was carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels and looking warily at the teenaged partygoers. Vince recognized him from the band London, the guy was a druggie, and probably a lunatic on top of that. The other was hunched over, dressed in black leather from his jacket to his platform boots, even though it was nearly 80 degrees out. Vince recognized him too, though they’d never met: he was unmistakably the guy from the Starwood, looking as serious as ever. His glasses were tinted black, but Vince could feel the guy’s eyes on him, looking him up and down like he was prize beef. Vince turned back to Tommy, a little unsettled. 

“That old guy, is he your manager or something?” That might explain why he’d been checking Vince out at the bar, if he was scouting for a lead singer or whatever. Tommy’s grin just grew brighter, if that was possible. 

“Nah, man, that’s Mick! He’s great, totally out there but he kills it on guitar.” 

Guitar, huh. An image flashed into Vince’s mind: the man on stage with colored lights glaring down on him, shining off of black leather and silver chains as long, pale fingers choked the neck of an electric guitar. It was a strange image - He seemed so serious and subdued, without the flair, the swagger of a lead guitarist. But he sure had something, some kind of rock and roll aura that Vince couldn’t put his finger on. He realized he was staring when Tommy clapped a hand on his shoulder and pressed a cassette tape into his palm. 

“Listen to this and then call me, dude. You’ll love it, I promise.“ 

Vince pocketed the tape, but… come on. He had a good thing going with Rock Candy, lots of gigs and lots of girls. Why would he want to fuck that up by hanging out with some sketchy-looking rock band that didn’t even have a name? Tommy was a good guy, but he and his new buddies were going nowhere. 

Still, Vince gave his old friend a smile like he was actually going to do it and watched Tommy, ever the optimist, bound excitedly back over to the rest of his “band.” The guys didn’t even stick around for the rest of the party, as soon as business was done they headed back out the garden gate, the bassist leading the way as Tommy chattered in his ear. 

Vince started to follow Lovey inside to find an empty room with a door that locks, but when he turned around he found himself face to face with the Starwood guy. The guitarist took off his glasses and for the first time, there were no tinted lenses, no stage lights between Vince and the man’s intense gaze. He, Mick, leaned in to look Vince in the eye. “You’re not convinced,” he said, not really asking. 

“I mean, I’ve got something going on right now…” Vince told him uncertainly, suddenly feeling guilty for nothing in particular. 

“Well, you should consider it while you can. A cover band can only take you so far, and your guitarist isn’t going to last much longer, it’s obvious he doesn’t have what it takes.” 

“And what makes you think that your guys aren’t going to crash and burn?” 

“I’m not going to let that happen,” he informed Vince, dead serious. “Listen to the tape.” He started to walk away, following his bandmates. Vince watched him go for a second before calling after him. 

“Hey, wait! That drink, at the Starwood –“ either his voice was drowned out by the crowd or Mick just ignored him. Shit. Vince didn’t even know what he was going to ask, but he was starting to know what he couldn’t quite put into words earlier. Mick wasn’t an ego-driven guitarist, expecting things just to fall in place for him. He was confident in his own abilities, and worked to get what he wanted. But what did he want with Vince?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised but a little late, here is the smutty companion to part 1!

As usual, when the show ended, the partying began.

Vince fucked three girls that night.

Not one of them noticed that he was wearing a plug in his ass.

~~~~

Vince and Mick didn’t have much time to themselves after the show, but they took advantage of what little time they had. In their shared dressing room, Mick wasted no time fingering Vince open and pressing a small, beaded plug inside him while they made out on the vanity table. When Lovey came knocking a few minutes later, Mick gave Vince a short swat on the ass, making him yelp as the toy jostled inside him, then sauntered to the doorway, letting Lovey in as he stepped out.

Lovey didn’t pay Mick any mind as she made a beeline for Vince, draping herself on him until he bends her over the same table that Mick had him pinned against not five minutes ago. Vince was already hard (though Lovey thought it was because of the adrenaline high), so it didn’t take long for him to get off with her. When the pair rejoined the rest of the band, Mick snuck Vince a leery, knowing look that was almost enough to get him hard again.

Lovey didn’t stick around for the afterparty (she had better drugs at home, and hated their disgusting apartment), and once she was gone, it didn’t take long for the groupies to close in. A particularly bold girl pushed Vince down into a chair then unbuttoned his pants and got to work on his cock. She swallowed him down after just a few tries, bobbing her head and tonguing at his length while her manicured nails dug crescent gouges into the leather stretched across Vince’s thighs.

One of the chair legs was shorter than the others, and whenever the seat rocked on its uneven legs, the plug would shift and Vince would choke down a gasp. Mick watched the whole time from his seat halfway across the room, never taking his eyes off of Vince’s face as he nursed his bottle of vodka and relied on his dark sunglasses to hide the direction of his gaze. Vince didn’t have the benefit of sunglasses: his eyes were constantly wandering to Mick and then darting away before anyone could notice – anyone besides Mick himself, of course, who wore the ghost of a smirk that was driving Vince crazy.

It always went like this. Mick wasn’t the jealous type, he never asked Vince to stop messing around with the girls that constantly seemed to throw themselves at him. It was just sex, even with Lovey (well, sex, money, and cocaine), nothing like what Mick and Vince had. But he was possessive, and he kept a close eye on Vince and his partners at parties like this one. It wasn’t unusual for Mick to find ways to take control of Vince’s sex life, to remind him of who he really belonged with, even while he climaxed on a strange woman’s lips.

After he had spilled and she had swallowed, Vince made his way over to Mick. But he didn’t get a break just yet: Mick poured him out a shot, and then promptly pointed him towards another girl who’d been making eyes at him. Vince wasn’t exactly ready to get it up again just yet, but dutifully he approached her and started chatting her up. Not even half an hour later, he was on top of her in his bed (actually just a mattress on the floor). She was enthusiastic, her hips grinding into his thrusts while her hands roamed across his chest and shoulders. When she started to grope at his ass, he panicked and pinned her hands above her head, pretending like he’d been planning to do that all along.

When he finally finished for the third time, Vince was wiped out. The girl – he’d forgotten her name – didn’t leave right away, and he couldn’t be bothered to kick her out. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before the bedroom door slammed open (the lock had never worked, which always kept things exciting) and Mick stomped in, ordering what’s-her-name to get out.

As soon as she was gone, Mick jammed a chair under the door to prevent any curious drunks (including Tommy, who shared the bedroom) from seeing something they shouldn’t, then stripped off his jacket and boots and laid down behind Vince, finally claiming his rightful place.

Vince melted into the curve of his boyfriend’s body. Mick was still mostly clothed, and his cold belt buckle pressed against Vince’s lower back, but Vince was too sated and sleepy to care. Mick hooked one leather-clad leg over Vince’s bare calf, and began running his hand through his blond hair. He must have drifted off, because the next thing Vince knew, he was being roused by a gentle tug on the plug in his ass.

Vince lay pliant as Mick worked the plug out of him, rocking it back and forth so that it just barely brushed against his prostate, provoking a breathy moan each time. Mick pulled the plug out slowly, only to replace it with two of his fingers. He scissored his fingers, stretching Vince open until his moans had turned into an incessant needy mewling.

Finally, when Vince was stretched loose and practically dripping with lube, Mick swung himself on top of Vince, spreading his legs apart so he could kneel between them while Vince lay with his face in his pillow. Mick unzipped his pants, taking his cock out and stroking it slick before hiking Vince’s hips into his lap and pushing in with little hesitation.

Vince cried out as Mick entered him, bottoming out on the first thrust. Vince loved to wet his own cock, but nothing compared to the feeling of Mick inside him. The heat from Mick’s cock seemed to radiate through Vince’s whole body, and the feeling of being filled so completely replaced all other thoughts in Vince’s mind.

Mick set a steady pace, slow and deliberate. He adjusted his angle until he was glancing against Vince’s prostate with every thrust, making him moan even louder, forgetting about any risk that the party guests outside the bedroom might hear him. Vince propped himself up on his forearms so he could arch his back into Mick’s thrusts, and Mick leaned forward, pressing hot kisses all over Vince’s shoulders. The kisses soon turned into love bites, and Vince nearly screamed when Mick dug his teeth into a still-healing bite mark from the night before.

When they were both getting close, Mick reached around to grip Vince’s cock, picking up the pace as he stroked Vince roughly from root to tip. Vince came first, shoving his face back into the pillow to muffle his shout as his body shuddered and he spilled into Mick’s hand. Mick thrust a few more times, stimulating Vince’s oversensitive prostate and sending a few intense jolts of pleasure through Vince’s body. Mick’s orgasm followed quickly, and he buried himself deep inside of Vince as he came, gripping his hips hard enough to bruise while he spilled his hot seed. For a moment, they remained connected, Mick’s black hair brushing against Vince’s back and his callused fingers massaging apologetic circles around fresh marks on Vince’s smooth skin while they both tried to catch their breath.

Mick pulled out and slid back into his spot beside Vince, breathing hard as he rolled onto his back. Vince could feel a trickle of Mick’s cum beginning to leak out of his hole, but neither could be bothered to clean up and disturb their blissful tableau. Vince was boneless with pleasure and exhaustion, but he heaved himself up just enough to drape himself half on top of Mick. Vince had learned quickly that cuddling was very important with Mick so he always made sure that they stayed tangled together after sex. He planted sleepy kisses all over Mick’s face and hair, anywhere he could reach, as Mick wrapped his arms around Vince’s torso, pulling him closer against his body. Mick tucked his head above Vince’s shoulder, and Vince could feel Mick’s lips against the side of his neck as they curved into a gentle smile.


End file.
